


Fading Away

by a_fantasia (AyuT)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyuT/pseuds/a_fantasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unrequited love story, as seen from a rear-view mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Away

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://a-fantasia.livejournal.com/35141.html).

_The Head of Sakurai Corp, a Modern-Day Prince_  
  
 _Sakurai Sho, 29, is one of the most influential businessmen in our country. He has everything men his age desire —success, fame, and good looks. The company he inherited from his late father…_  
  
“Good morning, sir,” Nino stops reading and opens the back door of his car as he hears a knock on it.  
  
He folds the newspaper in two and shoves it into the glove compartment, hiding the picture of a man wearing an impeccable suit and a confident smile to lift his head and find the same person, only a bit less edited, reflected on the rear-view mirror.  
  
“Nino, how are you?” he greets him informally, which contrasts with Nino’s politeness.  
  
“Fine, Sakurai-san,” Nino responds, steering the wheel to take the same road as usual. He doesn’t need directions anymore. “Do you have a tight schedule this week as well?"  
  
“It never ends,” Sakurai sighs, resting his chin on his hand as he looks out the window. It’s raining today, and everybody’s carrying their umbrellas around; the street looks like a sea crowded with jellyfish. “But hopefully I think I’ll be able to sleep, unlike last week.”  
  
“That’s nice, sir,” Nino gives him a little smile as they stop in some traffic lights. “You deserve to have some rest, more than anybody else.”  
  
“Well, you work pretty hard too, Nino,” Sho mirrors his expression, a bit uncomfortably.  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I don’t but, as much as taxis are needed everywhere, they don't help rise a country.”  
  
Sakurai nods lightly and falls silent, lost in his thoughts, as he does every time his and Nino’s conversation drifts away from trivial matters. He’s tired of being reminded about his position, the driver guesses, and he doesn't say a word the rest of their way to the headquarters of Sakurai Corp.

 

***

  
He picks him up again in front of his house the next day at 7 am, as usual. Although he certainly can afford a chauffeur, Sakurai always chooses to go to work by taxi. He’s Nino’s only regular client, and, through the time they’ve been sharing that little space and time regularly, a cordial relationship has developed between them. They’re not exactly _friends_ , even though Nino knows Sakurai would like them to be (and partly believes they are).  
  
However, today’s not one of his talkative mood days, either. After getting in the car and greeting Nino, he just stares out the window in silence, until there's a moment in which he recognizes someone among the crowd rushing in the street. Then, he asks him to slow down a little and drive closer to the sidewalk.  
  
Sakurai rolls down his window and waves his gloved hand a bit too enthusiastically. A lot of people turn their heads at him, but none seem to be the person whose attention he’s seeking.  
  
“What's up, Matsumoto!” he calls out, in an informal tone like the one he uses with Nino, maybe sounding closer to a rapper in the middle of a concert.  
  
A man wearing a long coat gives him a subtle look and immediately quickens his pace, as if pretending not to see him. Sakurai clicks his tongue, mutters something under his breath, and asks Nino to stop at the next traffic light. He gets out of the car and grabs the man by his arm.  
  
“Come here, I don't bite,” he drags him inside.  
  
Matsumoto closes the door with a sigh, unable to hide how uncomfortable he is with the situation.  
  
“We’re going to the same place after all,” Sakurai says with a friendly smile.  
  
Matsumoto nods curtly, and Nino sees how he avoids looking at Sakurai’s face. If he’s going to the same place with him, it means he works for his company, so perhaps he's just too intimidated by his boss’ presence to react normally.  
  
But Sakurai insists on breaking the ice.  
  
“Oh, so I heard there are plans to go drinking next Friday, did you?" he asks him casually.  
  
“Ah… yes.”  
  
“I was thinking on tagging along if I find a gap on my schedule," the boss suggests, carefully watching Matsumoto's reaction.  
  
That must be a pretty important event, Nino thinks, if he’s going to obviously skip some obligations to go. In all the time he’s been working for him, there has never been such a _gap_ on his schedule.  
  
“Oh, good," his subordinate answers, not really showing much interest. Right when a curve is slightly forming on Sakurai’s lips, he adds “although I might not be able to go this time.”  
  
Sakurai’s words get blocked on his throat, and Nino sees him gulping them down. He doesn’t speak again until he manages to find some new ones before they arrive.  
  
“I shall talk to the rest, then,” he says in a lower voice, and the driver doesn't need to look to see his defeated expression.  
  
Matsumoto gets out as soon as the engine stops, thanks Nino politely for his services and only gives his boss a little excuse before dashing towards a group of people standing in front of the glass doors.  
  
Watching Sakurai’s shoulders droop as he gives up on going after his subordinate, Nino is alarmed by the thought that, somehow, he might be the only one who actually listens to and considers this man’s kind words.

 

***

  
Nino sees it. Sakurai just wants to fit in. He could have everything —a fancy, expensive car for his exclusive personal use, hundreds of equally rich and successful friends—, and yet all he desires is to be regarded as any other person. He’s trying hard, so hard it’s difficult not to see it.  
  
One doesn’t really need to drive him around every day to know about that; one only needs to _look_.  
  
All Nino has done for him, though, aside from watching his attempts and frustration, is giving him his personal number. In principle, he's only meant to use it for any unscheduled rides he might need, sort of a VIP treatment, if you want to call it that, but Nino would also listen if he ever just wanted to _talk_.  
  
Even so, Sakurai has only called him directly twice —once because he needed to go to the airport late in the night and the other because he had fallen ill and was practically forced to go home.  
  
That is, until he calls tonight.  
  
Nino is already sleeping with his husband, who unconsciously grunts a little when the phone vibrates on the bedside table. Nino hurries to pick it up, and all he can hear at first is a distant sound of music.  
  
“Good evening... is this Ninomiya-san?” a shy, different voice asks when he’s about to hang up.  
  
“Yes...” He sits up and rubs his eyes.  
  
“Um, I’m Aiba Masaki, I work for..." he starts introducing himself.  
  
“GIVE IT TO ME!” Sakurai yells on the other end, so loud he breaks the silence in Nino's room. “HEY, NINOOOOOOO!” his voice makes the driver’s ear hurt.  
  
“Hello,” Nino greets him, dropping the “sir” he was about to add. It’s just too weird right now. “It’s past 3am…"  
  
“I knowww,” the businessman laughs, and Nino hears him tripping over something. “I just screwed it up today.”  
  
“What’s it?”  
  
“Everything,” Sakurai’s tone lowers for a second, before he chuckles again. “Sooo I want to go to some place far from here. And never come back, if possible. How much would that cost, driver-san?”  
  
Nino rolls his eyes. It’s not a part of his job to go through drunk calls like these, but because this has been the first time, he follows.  
  
“It depends on how far that is.”  
  
“Oooooh, very, very far!" Sakurai answers. Nino can hear Aiba telling him to stop something he's doing to a chair. Somehow, he predicts what’s next. "Where nobody knows me."  
  
Nino sighs, hoping at least he can walk by himself.  
  
“Okay, I’ll go pick you up now. Where are you?"  
  
The boss gives the phone back to his subordinate and starts singing (or rather screeching) a song while he gives directions to the driver so he can get there.  
  
“I’ll be back, Satoshi.”  
  
Nino places a kiss on his husband’s cheek, and hurries to get dressed.  
  
He wouldn’t do this for any client, not even for ‘Prince Sakurai’, if he didn’t know nobody else will if he doesn’t.  
  
After all, he really seems to be the only one who _cares_.  


***

  
“Hey, talk to me,” he tells him, seeing Sakurai’s eyes closing through the mirror. "Don't fall asleep like that."  
  
“Ugh, who cares,” the businessman replies, frowning, and throws his already loosened tie to the seat next to his.  
  
In the time it took Nino to get to the karaoke bar he was at, he switched from his previous chirpy and loud mode to a gloomy, plain bad mood. Not even Aiba, that man with the bright smile and the lame jokes, managed to put a smile back on his face.  
  
“I do,” he declares, “I'm working after hours and I still need to get some sleep before starting the day. So I’d like to go home as soon as possible.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Sakurai falls silent as usual, but this time the driver notices a difference in his expression; he's not just tired or upset —he’s actually _sad_ , sad as Nino has often imagined he is, but has never witnessed before.  
  
“This time I screwed it up,” he uses the same words as before with a darker tone. "I screwed it up so hard."  
  
Sakurai’s head droops and he hides his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead. Nino waits for him to go on without asking.  
  
“I did it in front of everybody,” he mutters in a muffled voice, so Nino has to draw his attention from the road for a second. “I kissed Matsumoto.”  
  
The driver remembers about that man they picked up the other day and smiles a little. He can read his clients so well.  
  
“I was hoping he'd kiss me back," Sakurai sits back, and Nino sees frustration. "Like that time he kissed me a year ago, in his reception."  
  
Nino’s lips form a circle; he is actually surprised by this. “So he went first?”  
  
There’s a broken smile on the mirror. The driver pictures a scene in a corridor; two people awkwardly leaning on each other, swaying left and right, their lips sloppily pressing together in the less expected moment. There’s always one that says they should forget about it. The other one immediately agrees and tries to. But, in fact, it never happens.  
  
“And now he’s been saying he feels harassed.” His laugh is broken, too. “Harassed, ain’t that funny? Just because I glance at him sometimes, and I buy him presents…”  
  
“Some people don’t understand,” Nino tries to sound experienced, though fortunately he has never had to go through the same with Satoshi.  
  
“I guess it’s that,” Sakurai lets out a deep sigh. “But now everybody knows I’m stupid. I’m the gay boss who got rejected at a karaoke party.”  
  
They've just arrived to his house. Nino stops the engine, not really knowing what to say over the noise of the crickets outside. Instead of speaking, he gets out of the car, goes to the back sit and helps Sakurai out.  
  
The man breaks down in his arms; he’s not crying, but Nino can feel him holding his tears back with all his might, shaking; he allows him to rest his forehead against his shoulder.  
  
 _He’s so fragile_ , he thinks, and wonders who would really choose to be him, who really does know who Sakurai Sho is and still wants to be in his place. He wonders if they just don’t _want_ to understand.  
  
“Go home now," the man says, pushing him away. Nino goes back inside his taxi and looks back at him, his silhouette looking smaller than ever. “And thank you,” Sakurai adds. Nino refuses with a gesture of his hand and gets ready to go. “No, I mean,” the businessman walks up next to his window, "for not calling me ‘sir’ anymore."  
  
“Anytime, Sho-san,” Nino winks, and drives off.

  
***

  
Sakurai calls the next day to say he doesn’t need Nino to pick him up until Wednesday. However, from habit, Nino still goes to wait in front of Sakurai Corp at 7 in the afternoon.  
  
Through the rear-view mirror, he watches the workers coming out of the building, chatting and laughing while they walk to their cars, and wonders how many know about what happened last night, how many think differently of their boss because of it, and if there’s any who will simply forget about it.  
  
There’s a familiar face coming his way. He opens the back door when he’s near enough and offers him a ride. He freezes for a second the moment he hears the name of the place he is asked to drive to.  
  
It’s all over.  
  
“Is there any problem?” Matsumoto asks, fastening his seatbelt.  
  
It’s still none of his business. It’s never been, but, once again, he can’t help caring. Everything is falling apart in front of his eyes and, although he kind of saw it coming, even if it wasn’t exactly this way, that doesn’t make it less unfair.  
  
He hopes there is something he can do to soften the impact.  
  
He shakes his head and starts the car, turning up a bit the volume of the radio. It helps to fill in the silence between them, a silence so unlike those he shares with Sakurai. He hasn’t heard enough of the story to imagine what Matsumoto’s real character is. Therefore, he analyzes.  
  
He observes Matsumoto, the calm expression on his face, his relaxed position; how oblivious he is to the fact that another man was sitting there a few hours ago, going to pieces, desperate for an option to make things work —to close that painful gap between them. Nino frowns; Matsumoto hasn’t even noticed the tie hanging on the back of the passenger seat is his boss’, or, if he’s indeed noticed, he hasn’t given any importance to it.  
  
“Have you told your boss yet?” he finally brings himself to speak, hoping not to sound too concerned.  
  
“No, not yet…” Matsumoto replies. He sounds troubled; perhaps he isn’t as cold as Nino supposed he would be. “I really should, though, it’s next month already.”  
  
“He would like to go,” Nino dares to talk for Sakurai, even though he doesn’t know for sure.  
  
“I know,” Matsumoto nods, then makes a pause to cross his legs. “I really would like him to come.”  
  
It’s at this time when Nino realizes just how twisted and capricious life is, and how pain, in truth, most of the times isn’t even caused intentionally.  
  
“I used to admire him a lot,” his client goes on speaking after a while. “I thought he was perfect.”  
  
Sometimes, not even knowingly.  
  
“But then he started doing unnecessary,” he smiles bitterly, “stupid things.”  
  
“ _We all do when we’re in love_ ,” Nino thinks, but this time he bits his tongue.  
  
“I should have made him stop earlier,” Matsumoto goes on, barely raising his voice, as if speaking to himself. “He should have known this wasn’t going anywhere.”  
  
They’ve arrived in front of a suit boutique. Nino checks if there’s any car coming before opening the back door.  
  
“That doesn’t mean you have to give up, does it, anyway?” he tells his client before he leaves.  
  
Matsumoto doesn’t give an answer. He just takes out his wallet, pays the driver, and heads towards the shop. However, he turns back halfway and talks to Nino.  
  
“I don’t know if you’re the right person to ask,” he says, and seems to hesitate before going on, “but could you please take care of him?”  
  
Nino nods, not really because that’s a mission he thinks he can accomplish, but because he finally understands. Matsumoto _looks_ and _cares_ but, unfortunately, he’s never shown it.  


***

  
It’s near midday, and the sun is bright up in the sky.  
  
Nino gets out of his taxi to help Sakurai carry his suitcase and suit bag. He’s relieved to see he’s wearing a smile, a relaxed one, not exactly happy, but enough to show he’s much better now than days ago. It really suits his elegant tuxedo.  
  
“Your flight was so late,” he says, hurrying to open the trunk. “But I think we can still make it before the bride.”  
  
Sho’s face brightens a bit. He looks strangely refreshing today, as if he had come from some holidays at the beach and not from three days of conferences overseas. But, before Nino gets into the car and opens the door for him, he stops, and the smile fades slowly away from his face.  
  
The driver turns around and gives him an understanding look, although Sho is looking at the ground instead of back at him. Of course he hasn’t gotten used to the idea, not yet, maybe not for the next months, maybe not for a long time. But Nino has been there, has seen him at the edge, resisting, falling ever so innocently and sincerely before finally breaking he’s sure he can eventually rise up and try again, get better.  
  
All he needs is forgetting and, in the process, letting his wounds heal, learning to, hoping it will work next time.  
  
Nino sees it. However, Sakurai doesn’t yet, and that’s why he asks, like he has a million times already.  
  
“Do you think he'll forgive me?”  
  
Nino sighs; his immediate answer is offering him the passenger seat instead of the usual one. Sakurai accepts and gets into the car without insisting. The driver knows he expects him to say “yes” or “maybe” as he normally does, but this time he carefully thinks of a better reply.  
  
After all, this story was born from a genuine misunderstanding, one with too dramatic consequences. There is no one to blame —only a desire, some regrets, and too many words left unsaid.  
  
“He has nothing to forgive you for, Sho-san.”


End file.
